


Monica Wilkins and the Fat Envelope

by teaberryblue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 17:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaberryblue/pseuds/teaberryblue





	Monica Wilkins and the Fat Envelope

Monica Wilkins had a hole in her stocking. It was one of those distresing holes that forms right at the tip of one's toes, and sort of pops up around the toe over the course of the day, so it itches and tickles, and no matter how one adjusts it, it creeps right back up the moment one's shoe is back on one's foot.  
  
It was one of those sorts of days. Monica had had to put braces on a rather nasty little boy who kept biting her fingers, and had to sing the "Brush your teeth, round and round" song sixteen times over the course of the afternoon-- three times to the same four-year-old patient who kept clapping and squealing "AGAIN, AGAIN!" until Monica's voice had started to go hoarse from the repetition.  
  
She was looking forward to nothing more than a nice cup of tea and a hot bath to take the edge off-- and, of course, to kick off those shoes and tug off those annoying stockings the moment she entered the house.   
  
But in the process of kicking off her shoes, she kicked right into a thick, yellow envelope that was waiting for her just inside the front door to the Wilkins home.  
  
She knew immediately what it was, and almost squealed for joy as she forgot the stockings and picked it up, hefting it lightly in both hands. She wondered if heavy was good. She hoped heavy was good. She began to tear open the seal, and then stopped, letting out a resigned sigh. She couldn't, couldn't open it without Wendell.  
  
A moment later, she had him on the line from the office. "It's come," she said, her voice barely a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might make it vanish.  
  
"What's come, dumpling?" Wendell asked. "No, no," he said suddenly, and then she realized he must be talking to a patient, "none of your _actual_ wisdom will be extracted along with the tooth."   
  
"The envelope. From the adoption agency."  
  
"It has?" he asked, suddenly rapt.  
  
"Oh, Honey, I can barely contain myself. I-- I don't know why we never did this before. A baby!" Monica exclaimed, trying hard not to let her voice break. "They're going to give us a baby! And we're-- Oh, love, we're both past forty. Are we too old?"  
  
"Monnie, honey, we've had this conversation a hundred times," Wendell said, reassuringly. "You're not too old. I know the doctors said we're too old to have one of our _own_ , but you'll make a perfect mother, I promise."  
  
"Promise?"   
  
"Promise," Wendell answered.   
  
She smiled, softly, and stroked the envelope lovingly, as if it were a baby itself. "I love you, darling," she told him.  
  
"I love you, dear. And our baby is going to have perfect, perfect teeth."  
  
"I was thinking, I've always liked names from Shakespeare. Or Greek mythology. Do you think that's too obscure?"   
  
"Of course not, sweetheart. We-- can we talk about this later? I've got to get back to this extraction."   
  
Monica hung up the phone and put the envelope down on the kitchen table, wondering again to herself why it had taken them so long. She'd always wanted a baby...hadn't she? But then dental school had gotten in the way, and then their careers, and...well, now they were finally going to have a little boy or girl of their very own, just so long as the results of their application-- oh, her heart was beating so quickly.   
  
She looked back at the envelope, tapping her fingers. Wendell wouldn't be home for another two hours yet, and...could she wait that long? She was impatient already, and to think just five minutes ago, the most important thing on her mind had been her stockings. In the next year...why, with a baby, one could hardly worry about holes in stockings. It seemed so inconsequential now.  
  
She laughed at herself, and went to fix tea, but she could feel it, the power of that envelope behind her...she couldn't help but look at it over her shoulder.  
  
The water was set to boiling...now what? She looked at the clock. She had an hour, fifty-seven minutes. This was too much.  
  
With one hour, fifty-one minutes left to wait, the suspense finally drove Monica Wilkins to distraction. She tore into the envelope.  
  
But instead of a sheaf of papers tumbling into her lap, there was a poof of pink smoke, and suddenly, there in front of her was a strange-looking young girl with a mass of frizzy hair, large teeth, and something terribly, terribly familiar about her.  
  
Monica Wilkins let out a scream of terror.  
  
"Hi, mum," said Hermione.


End file.
